


maybe this time

by tobewilder



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobewilder/pseuds/tobewilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been here before, in Trish’s room with the doors slid shut and the sheets pooled around them. Sometimes they’re tired and hungry for each other, sometimes they’re messed up on drugs or booze or pills, and a long time ago they were quieter, shyer, less certain — this time, though. This time.</p><p>---</p><p>Post-series, Jess and Trish stretch into their new dynamic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe this time

**Author's Note:**

> Post-series giddiness, because I can't get over these two and how they just each work so hard to protect the other. In my head they were lovers before Kilgrave, and I am having approximately one billion feelings about what they might be like now that they're both stronger. The dynamic has shifted now: Trish can kick Jessica's ass. They're equals. God, I love them.

They’ve been here before, in Trish’s room with the doors slid shut and the sheets pooled around them. Sometimes they’re tired and hungry for each other, sometimes they’re messed up on drugs or booze or pills, and a long time ago they were quieter, shyer, less certain — this time, though. This time:

“Come on,” Jess smirks, skimming her fingers down the length of Trish. “Flip me over. Don’t you learn all sorts of crazy leg stuff in Krav Maga?”

“It’s a lot of elbows, actually.” Trish tries for haughty, but it comes out more like a whine. “Very rapid. Get em before they can get you.” Jess’s fingers twist just so and oh, the _noise_ that comes out of Trish’s mouth. “I would never have — _oh_ — I would never have ended up tied like this — _ohh —_ “ 

Jessica’s dipped her head down to lick a broad swathe around Trish’s nipple. Trish arches into it, keening and rolling her hips up to meet those insistent fingers. 

It used to be so frustrating with Jess, a push and pull and tease — Jess sat astride her hips with those lips twisting from one smirk to another; Jess pulling everything of Trish’s off at once before stepping back to strip her own clothes, one piece at a time; Jess stroking into her gently, like she was afraid she would break.

This is new, though. The dares, and the closeness; the way she presses their bodies together; the way she digs her nails into Trish’s shoulder just a little deeper, just enough to leave the lightest marks. 

Trish has never liked the receiving end of rough, but this — this is turning her on like she wouldn’t believe. “Jess,” she gasps. “I’m so wet, god, it’s embarrassing.” And then, louder, “Harder, Jessica — “

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Jess is sipping coffee and flipping through a magazine when Trish comes padding out of bed. 

“You’re up early!” she chirps, going straight for the coffee.

“You’re up late,” Jess retorts. She’s rewarded with an eyebrow quirked over the top of Trish’s mug. 

Jess glances over her face and neck and shoulders — old habits die hard, and it hasn’t been that long since she’d check every morning before school for the stray bruise or cut. Today, though, there’s something different. Trish’s collarbone is reddened where Jess pressed a hint of a bite as she came and there’s still just a tinge of sleep in the corners of her eyes, but it’s something else, something intangible — her arms, maybe, flexing nicely as she grips the mug, or the lift of her chin.

And then there’s the shirt. “Is that tank mine?” 

Trish looks down and pulls at the fabric. “I guess it is. I thought it felt…unfamiliar.” 

“You think it feels cheap.” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“I know your voice.” 

It’s gentle this time, almost affectionate. Trish could burst with the warmth of it. There’s a light, delicious soreness in her arms and legs, the morning’s streaming in through her gorgeous bay windows and Jessica’s sat in her kitchen, sane and whole and just a touch disheveled, flipping through Vanity Fair smirking at everything she sees. 

“Hey,” Trish says suddenly, bracing herself against her counter. Jess looks up; Trish tilts her head. “I love you too, you know.” 

The corners of Jess’s mouth twitch up almost involuntarily. It’s been a long, long time since she’s smiled like this, not out of fear, or pride, or indulgence, but happiness instead.

 _Maybe this time_ , she thinks, slipping off her stool. Trish is laughing — Trish is _alive_ — and Jess is light.

 _Maybe this_ , she thinks, rounding the corner to press Trish to the counter and slide into her embrace. To wrap her arms around her person. To kiss and be kissed.

**Author's Note:**

> tobewilder @ tumblr, come hang out


End file.
